Scars that never healed
by SadEcho
Summary: There is a reason why Crocodiles past has remained a carefully guarded secret. It is a secret that he has managed to keep for over half his life. Now that Crocodile is finally free from Impel Down, an old acquaintance, who wants to strike up old bonds, is coming dangerously close to finding out the truth. Warnings for heavy content of graphic nature, rape and dark themes.


**Scars that never healed**

**Authors Note: Set post Marineford War. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.**

**Warning: Mentions of rape, assault, drugging, death, and relatively disturbing content.**

Ch.1

Pain, a sharp searing lance of acidic heat, stabbed strait into his core, waking Sir Crocodile from his slumber like the shattering of glass in the silence. He sat upright, shoving his upper body off of his pillows, and immediately regretted the action. Choking on his breath, the ex-warlord sucked in a lungful of air as his abdomen sent searing waves of agony wracking through his system in bursts of intensity. His vision went dark and sparkled with flickering pinpricks of light, as the soft shifting of sand was heard over the ringing in his ears. The edges of his being had instinctively transformed to impede the source of pain, but the wetness between his thighs stopped him from completing the change.

Crocodile froze, feeling the sticky dampness between his legs that made the pajama bottoms and sheets underneath of him cling to the underside of his thighs. For a moment the pain was forgotten as a fresh feeling of horror seeped its way into his entire awareness. With a shaking hand, he slowly gripped the sheets in his fist, his knuckles going white as he pulled back the covers.

Blood; once white sheets clung to the bottom of his clothed hips and inner thighs, the smell slowly reaching to his nose and coating his senses with its undeniable presence as a sick confirmation.

'It's too soon…why?'

Knocking from behind his bedroom door caused the former warlord to flinch. "Sir," a cautious voice, muffled behind the door, yet strong with its deep drawling baritone, called, "I have come to report on the progress of our current course, as you have asked."

'It's only Daz…' A knot, which had savagely twisted in Crocodile's already throbbing abdomen, slowly uncoiled at the realization. Crocodile swallowed several times, mustering up the strength to not let the pain in his voice be obvious. "How close are we to the next island?"

Daz Bones, who stood on the opposite side of the door, had paused just as he was about to knock again. He tried not to hesitate for too long, but his sharp senses had not missed the unfamiliar undertone in his superior's voice. "…We will be there before sunset, in six hours, sir."

'Six hours,' Crocodile echoed inwardly. That would be six hours spent in this unbearable state, suffering through this agony in silence. Whatever pain he was going through had to be buried under his usual cool demeanor. Appearing weak was not an option.

His remaining hand clenched over the muscles overlaying his pale stomach as he tried to digest that he would be spending six hours in this torture. But, it could have been much worse. It had been much worse. Thank whatever morbidly sadistic gods out there that he had seen this day coming, just like all the others. But why did it have to start so early? Crocodile had timed and deliberately planned to be on the upcoming island just a few days before this vicious cycle would start once again. All that careful planning had gone to waste.

"Sir?"

"…Make sure we are ready to land…as soon as possible."

There was a now a heavy note of dismissal in his captain's voice, along with the straining note that seemed to clip Crocodile's syllables short. "Yes sir." Daz walked away, working his mind around the strange atmosphere radiating off his boss. There was something wrong, but he would not press the other man into saying anything. Daz had too much respect to question it. Any sign of acknowledging it would be seen as nothing less than a direct insult to the other man. However, that did not change the fact that he was worried.

Crocodile listened to the other man's retreating footsteps, waiting for them to fade out and signal that he was alone once more. A piercing stab to his midsection reasserted the presence of his dilemma, stretching below his belly button from hip to hip, and tightening the surrounding muscles to excruciating levels. Briefly he spared a glance at his golden hook awaiting him on his bedside table, however he decided against it. Just the thought of carrying around the extra weight of that heavy piece of equipment churned his stomach.

Slowly he pulled himself to the side of the bed, shaking from the strain of moving when his lower half begged him not to. His quickening breathing was starting to become shallow. As he stood up from the bed, his legs trembled dangerously beneath him, and he could feel cold perspiration starting to bead on his skin. While the added moisture tamed his sandy edges into solidity, it also made the situation and the agony fully sink in. Even more than the pain, the feeling of such vulnerability was hard to swallow.

His first step forward was the hardest; it felt like his legs were trying to split apart starting at his tailbone and up to his navel. Crocodile staggered towards the end of the bed precariously. Gravity proved the victor as he fell to his knees with enough force it sent a jarring shudder that seemed to shake his bones loose. Breath hissed through his teeth, as he grabbed onto the footboard with his remaining hand until the antique mahogany groaned dangerously from the force of his grip. 'Come on, pull yourself together.'

Muscles straining, the dark-haired man heaved himself upright, cursing under his breath as he started to move forward again. Somehow he made it to the bathroom, where he immediately sat on the edge of a regular sized bathtub set in the wall. As he turned on the tab, the nobs squeaked, adding to the dull fuzzy throb that left his head feeling muddled. Before the water could even grow warm, Crocodile was stripping out of his pajama bottoms and settling his aching body in the bottom of the tub.

A blood spot from where he had been sitting on the tub edge nearly caused the ex-warlord to swear out loud. Quickly, the ashen skinned man swiped his discarded pants over the spot. In afterthought, he also shoved the soiled pajama pants under the faucet before splashing the still cold water over his legs to wipe away the evidence.

Pink water rushed down the drain. Crocodile waited patiently until it once again ran clearly, and threw the soaked clothing over to the sink. Now that the tap water was starting to warm, he turned the faucet for hot until the heat was barely tolerable and reached down and closed the drain. The overly taunt muscles in his thighs immediately began to relax, but the pain in his abdomen was slower to release its death grip on his insides.

Cupping his hands under the flow of fresh water, the ex-warlord splashed warm water over his face, passing the palms of his hands over his scarred features. Only now did he realize that the scar spanning across his face, which generally did not cause him pain, had been aching too. Crocodile bit the inside of his lips, running a finger across his scar absent mindedly. A stray bit of hair had fallen into his face, so he tucked it behind his ear without much thought. Then he froze. His heart beat loudly, thumping obscenely behind his ear drums. With a shaky hand, the underworlder removed the dark purple-black lock of hair from behind his ear to slick it back from his forehead along with the rest.

This was bad. Crocodile had not done that simple gesture since…since…shit. He tried so hard to forget those times. But this pain, so maliciously acute and reminiscent of the old days, haunted him, bringing back memories from the past that simply could not die and stay silent like so many other things from back then. Even now, he could not escape that twisted kink in the chain of fate that had changed his entire being.

**28 years ago**

The great Ali Ga'tour, head of the Ga'tour family, an infamous crime family, was overseeing the last details for his daughter's special day. It was her eighteenth birthday, the day that marked her as a woman, and thus ready to marry. Many bachelors would be doing their best to impress the Ga'tours. It was imperative that today went well. Now was the time to ensure that his daughter, Aly Ga'tour, would bring their family both honor and profit by seeking an appropriate groom who had both influence and power.

Ali had been worried for his daughter. She was naturally a tomboy and when she had been younger, any guests that he did have over would often mistake her for a boy. Many of them would make innocent remarks such as, "Oh! I did not know you had another son," or, "why did you not mention that Ahlee had a little brother?" Heaven knows that as the head of the family, who had high expectations for all of his family, Ali had the task of explaining the truth to his business partners.

Despite the difficulties, Ali supported his little girl's adventurous attitude. Aly had been so taken with the world of pirates, so as a gift for her eighth birthday, he had presented her with a pistol that had been recovered from a great pirate captain's ship. Ali had even allowed her to practice with his guardsmen in self-defense and combat class. That managed to satisfy them both. It meant his precious daughter would be able to take care of herself if she ever had to. Just the memory of her smiling face, so much like her late mothers, brought a warm glow of happiness to his old heart.

As Aly had matured and grown more womanly, her tomboyish appearance had molded into a more ladylike appearance with the natural womanly curves, so that she now resembled her mother even further. For her birthday she wore an elegant plumb colored one shoulder dress, layered with black silk in a toga like fashion, and finished with a braid of black material that hung around her waist with amethyst rocks laced through it. The choice of colors complemented her deep purple hair, almost black, and her rich golden eyes. A split on the side of the dress revealed her long pale legs and the black lace up sandals that completed the look. Ali's chest swelled with pride.

Aly caught her father, a middle aged man with dark hair and prominent crow's-feet radiating away from his tawny eyes, giving her an affectionate stare. She smiled warmly in return, mauve lips parting to reveal pristine white teeth. Carefully she made her way across the polished floors to his side, where she intertwined their arms together. Avoiding the graying stubble, she planted a kiss on her father's cheek, reveling in the deep chuckle and the gentle squeeze of his hand on hers.

They both looked up as her older brother, Ahlee strutted up to them. His skin was more grayish like their fathers, but he had inherited most of their mother's traits as well. Purple-black hair slicked back away from his proud forehead, and the deep golden eyes the gleamed with mischief. A single gold earring glimmered from one of his ears.

Ahlee was known for his antics, but he was able to put those aside when it counted. All of the Ga'tour estate had come to anticipate his wild behavior and not always well-received jokes. He had managed to somewhat get dressed up for the occasion, despite his laidback, somewhat carefree, attitude. A plain pair of black slacks with a matching waistcoat, a loosely fastened plumb colored tie, and a lavender dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows was about as dressed up as you could expect from the eldest son.

"Ahh! Commere' my sweet little sister!" Ahlee grinned cheerfully as he picked up Aly into a crushing hug. He even managed to lift the tall woman a couple of inches off the floor. His actions were rewarded with her chiming giggle and a hug around his broad shoulders. As he set her back to the floor, he jokingly yelped when Aly punched him squarely in the shoulder. "Heheheh, at least I know my tough little sister will be safe tonight."

Their father cleared his throat, gaining their attention. "Even so, I need you to look after her Ahlee. A party can be a dangerous place for any woman, no matter how skilled they are." Ali gave them each a strict glare, silencing Aly's complaint before it could even begin. "I need you to be safe, and no alcohol." His face twisted in amusement as they both gave an annoyed groan and rolled their eyes.

"Don't worry! She is safe with me." Ahlee wrapped an arm around his sister shoulder, drawing her in for a side hug. His toothy smile was dropped after an elbow was sharply rammed into his side. Sucking in a breath between his teeth, Ahlee winced and rubbed his assaulted ribs. His sister was a force to be reckoned with. Even the family guard had come to acknowledge Aly's skill, and the quick wit that came with it.

"That doesn't mean you are safe from me," Aly countered with a sly grin. She coolly stepped out of his loosened hold. Looking back over her shoulder, she tucked a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear as she winked slyly at the two men before weaving her way through the crowd to mingle with the festivities. Many of the family's patrons and associates were gathered here today, dancing in the center and drinking on the sidelines. It was too easy to blend in.

Ahlee moved to follow her, but was stopped by a firm hand that had grabbed onto his upper arm. He looked back into his father's eyes.

"Be careful. Many of our guests tonight are here looking for an opportunity. Not all of them with the purest intentions." Ali watched as his sons laidback expression hardened at his words. It was no secret that his foolish son was very protective of his sister.

"I know," Ahlee uttered solemnly. He looked towards the party with an uncharacteristically grim expression. Looking back at his father one last time, the eldest son quickly maneuvered through the crowd of people to shadow his sister.

Ali Ga'tour watched the mass of people warily, fearing for the safety of his small family. Yes, they are a crime family, but only because they openly support the Revolutionary Army. It put them all in a dangerous position. The government treated them as enemies, and the pirates of the world saw them as the perfect targets. Not one marine soldier would lift a finger if a Revolutionist happened to become a victim of crime. They had to stick close and fend for themselves, against a mean, dangerous, world.

* * *

Aly was basically going through the motions. She did what was expected; smiling warmly at guests, dancing with suitors if she had to, voicing her cleverly contrived opinion on the news, and listening to them talk about themselves while trying to keep herself from yawning. Although her father was expecting her to marry, she was completely opposed to the idea. Still, she would do this much for his sake.

If Aly had her way, she would be sailing the seas, exploring the Grand Line, looking for the legendary treasure just like Gol D. Roger. Then she would become the first ever Queen of the Pirates. Never again would she have to sit through boring lectures, business classes, or study proper etiquette. Though, being the daughter of a Revolutionist, this kind of thing would shock her father and his associates. So she kept her desires well hidden under the appearance of a more mature and lady like image. Her father of course knew she never stopped training and practicing with her pistol and her sword, but she compromised with him and dressed as a lady in public.

Cradling a cup of cider in her hands, Aly stood in a discreet corner away from the crowd, taking a moment to avoid the seemingly never ending flow of suitors. She had lost sight of her brother, but she knew he would not be very far from her. No matter how hard she trained, she was still a woman. Nothing she did would convince her family that she was not the weak helpless little girl that needed their protection. But, she couldn't blame them, not when her mother had been killed nearly ten years ago, because a man, bigger and stronger, had ended her life.

Swirling the amber contents of her drink idly, she pushed her thoughts away from that. Soon she would be gone from this way of life and be able to enjoy the open sea. She would find a ship to join and then she would be free. Aly would get out from underneath the protective wing of her father and go to see the world. If they really loved her, and she didn't doubt for a second that they did, they would understand and forgive her after she left tonight.

"Excuse me pretty little lady, do you know where the bathroom is? I tried asking someone else, but I just can't seem to find it."

Aly looked up to face the speaker. She forced a polite smile on her face, instead of the grimace that threatened to overtake her features. This man was scrungry looking; so much so that she was surprised he had managed to get through the door looking like that. Somehow his scrawny legs, clothed in tattered canvas pants, managed to support a barrel chested torso. His stained button down shirt was left undone and parted around his large, rather hairy, belly. Dark scraggly hair adorned his jaw in uneven patches, and the black curly mop on the top of his head was pulled back in a loose ponytail. The stranger continued to smile crookedly at her. Many of his teeth were missing, leaving gaping black holes between the few survivors.

"Ah how rude oh' me. The name is Marshal D. Kaine," he proclaimed as he extended a tanned hand towards her. Even that extremity was cover in thick hair on the back of his hands.

Doing her best not to outwardly cringe, Aly dainty extended her hand to meet his. She had to bite her cheeks when the hairy man closed his larger hand around hers for a handshake. "Aly Ga'tour," she replied, pulling her hand out of Kaine's grasp the moment she was introduced. Aly did not miss the gleam in his black eyes.

It would be best to direct this man away from her as soon as possible. Just barely she resisted the urge to start looking for her brother. Aly could handle this herself. Pointing out the way, she used a dismissive tone as he said, "Go out those large double doors and take the stairway that leads up to the left. The men's bathroom should be the first room on the right."

"Could you show me the way. It will only take a second." However, it was not asked as a question. He encases the pale woman's hand in his dark skinned one, pulling her towards the double doors. No one seemed to notice the odd pair traveling along the wall. The music was too loud, and the lights too dim.

Aly felt her skin prickle, warning signals blaring through her mind in frantic notes. "Let- _go_!" Her cup of cider clattered on the floor, but was lost amongst the party noise. Tugging against the large man's hold, she dug her heels into the floor, but there was little purchase on the smooth marble. Any of the small ornate rugs they came across would slip away uselessly under her feet. They burst through the double doors, no one making to stop them, or calling out in alarm.

Shrieking in uncontained rage, Aly balled her hand into a fist, slamming it upside the hairy man's stubble covered jaw. A brief feeling of triumph overtook her as the large potbellied man, fell to his knees and held his bruising face in surprise. However, that feeling evaporated when a sinister chuckle emitted from the man, Kaine.

"Zehahahaha…I do like my wenches with a little fight in em'. But you sure do pack a punch. Guess I will be using this after all." Kaine reached out and yanked on the purple-haired woman's arm, drawing her flush against his body and captured her against his chest.

Between Kaine's body odor and the crushing hold, Aly was too busy choking to cry out for help. She tried kneeing him in the gut, earning a few pained grunts from the man, but other than that all she could do was squirm and let out furious growls and tiny shrieks. Only when the needle was buried into her neck did she realize Kaine had pulled out a syringe from his pocket. An icy feeling seemed to spread from the injection sight, traveling through her veins, and leaving her head in an odd limbo between hyperawareness and mindless stupor. Aly didn't even notice when she had lost control or her muscles, going limp and pliant.

Everything after that was a broken blur of mismatched noises, colors, and screams. However, the scenes she wished to forget the most would be remembered with a painful sense of clarity.

Aly remembered being dragged to a dark place, shoved onto the floor, and her dress being ripped off her legs for the ease of access. Those filthy hands groped shamelessly, running over her skin, and leaving an unbearable crawly sensation underneath of her flesh. It was disgusting. She remembered yelling for him to stop, and clawed out at his face with her nails. Kaine hadn't liked that. He hit her and fisted her hair while slamming her head into the floor.

There was an invasive pressure between her legs, seeking out something. They were his fingers, they couldn't be _there_! Aly had tried yelling as loudly as she could, but her ears were not working, was she yelling at all? She must have been. That's why her brother broke open the door, light filling the dark space, as it slammed off of its hinges. Thank god he was here. At least that's what she had thought at first.

Kaine removed his fingers to battle with her brother. At first it looked like Ahlee was the winner, standing over the black-haired man with a bloodied fist. But then there was a loud bang that seemed to split the silence. The only movemt was the mysterious splatter against the floor, and the fine powder drifting eerily in curled wisps. Suddenly Ahlee was on the floor beside Aly, staring at her with out of focus eyes. His lips tried to form words, but only blood escaped, and then nothing, just stillness. He was dead.

"Zehaahahahahah!" Kaine stood over her brother's body, pistol smoking from his hands, and his head thrown back in a triumphant laughter. Blood was splattered over his dark skinned belly, telling the story she wished was not true.

Tears of rage and anguish flowed out of Aly's eyes. Now she was sure her cries of fury where heard, tearing themselves from her lungs with enough force her throat ached and left a coppery taste in her mouth. A rough hand clamped over her mouth, shaking her forcefully and held her against the floor.

There was the sound of a zipper being undone, a rustle of fabric, and then she was being ripped open. Aly was sure that she was being split in two from the bottom up. A molten fire was between her legs, sending signals of pain that overwhelmed her. Her cries of anger where replaced with agonized screams; the feral sounds of blind pain. She sobbed brokenly now. Small whimpers escaped between the alternating screams and cries.

"Shh Shhh… such a pretty thing needs to smile. I know! I'll give ya' a big ol' smile, right on yer' precious liddle face!"

A bright crescent glinted in the moonlight; drawing drew closer with each terrified breath, and dipping towards her eyes. Choking on a panicked sob, her golden eyes remained riveted on the blade Kaine teasingly brushed against her skin. Aly tried to move her head away, but the hand moved to grip her jaw with bruising force.

Then it was pressing again her skin, no, through her skin. She could feel the knife grazing slowly again her skull as it drew a white hot line of pain from underneath her ear, underneath of her eyes and over the bridge of her nose, until it met the opposite side. An earthshattering noise erupted into Alys ears, a grating sound that left her blood running cold. It was the last thing she remembered before darkness finally claimed her. Only later would she realize that the noise was _her_ screaming.

* * *

Ali Ga'tours daughter was in a coma after the…the rape. Just thinking of his daughter and that defiling, vulgar, word in the same thought brought tears to his eyes. Worse, even after rescuing her from Marshall D. Kaine, her life was still in danger. Aly's internal injuries had been much worse than the external. Both her mind and her body had been broken in that vicious act.

After the loss of his dear wife, the Ga'tour family had come together in the wake of the tragedy. Now with the death of his eldest son, and the looming death of his daughter, Ali was desperate. He needed a miracle. That is why he called on the Revolutionists for help.

* * *

Dull beeps and the smell of disinfectant were the first things that emerged from the heavy fog. Aly's golden eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the bright light. A plain beige and white filled room came into focus, lit by a small bedside lamp.

"Sir! Sir! The patient is awake!"

A petite nurse scurried away, clutching a clipboard to her chest. Her heels clicked loudly on the tile floors. Several voices could be heard shouting and murmuring in anxious tones. Then Ali Ga'tour came bursting into the room, his eye's instantly locking on Aly.

"My precious child." Tears freely rolled down the head of the family's weathered features. Crossing the rest of the distance to the hospital bed in seconds, Ali took Aly's bandaged face in his two hands gently as he pressed their foreheads together. He looked so relieved, and so much…older.

Aly tried to smile, but the actions pulled at the stitches hidden under the bandages. Noticing the pained look on his remaining child's face, Ali quickly pulled away and looked down with a mixture of concern and joy. He rubbed the tears from his eyes with his black sleeve- the colors of mourning. That's right. Ahlee was dead.

"Mmmfufufufu~ Looks like Aly-boy is recovering quite nicely."

Aly looked over at the source of the voice in shock. A large headed man, with a purplish blue afro stood confidently at the doorway. Heavy makeup adorned his face, which made the fluttering of his long lashes seem as outlandish as his proportions.

"Ah! Aly, this is Ivankov, the man who saved your life. I am truly in your debt Ivan-sama." Ali held a hand over his heart as he bowed his graying head.

"Yeehaw! I am happy to help such a valuable ally! There is no need to thank me. I just hope this cute candy-boy can live with the changes." Ivankov ignored the obvious flinch in Ali at the use of the term 'candy boy'. He was used to people finding his ways a bit too eccentric.

Aly swallowed gingerly before speaking for the first time. "Thank you…what?" Where did that deep rumbling voice come from?

Ivankov and Ali exchanged a glance as the young Ga'tour searched the room for someone that would not be there. Ali nervously cleared his throat, acquiring his only child's attention. He tentatively placed a hand on Aly's.

"Aly…you were so gravely injured…you were dying so…it was the only way…I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for being so selfish." A look of guilt overcame his features, something that was rarely seen on the passionate, and confident, man's face. It evoked an unfamiliar emotion of dread in Aly.

"There is nothing to be sorry about. I don't see how the change makes any difference," Ivankov interrupted. "Really, people are far too shallow about that kind of thing. Gender doesn't matter."

"Gender?" Aly echoed, the deep voice resonating with a questioning tone.

"Your female organs were too injured and were causing you to die, so I changed them. It was the only way," the afro-headed man said with the same type of air as someone telling the weather.

"Ivan-sama! Please think of how hard this is for her…for him." Ali looked away, overcome by a feeling of bitterness. There had been no other alternative, other than death.

Both of the men froze as Aly threw off the sheets and yanked the IV's and vital readers off of his arms, evoking the vital machine to ring its alarms. They both jumped to help the young Ga'tour, but one look from those cold topaz eyes and they stopped. Aly shakily walked over to the corner of the room, stopping to grip the edge of a sink and look into the mirror.

"Ahlee?" The image moved with him, pale lips matching his every move. No, despite the perfect replica of her dead brother, this person was younger, his hair was longer, his iris were more bright gold like their mothers, and his voice was far deeper than Ahlee's. Aly slowly raised a hand to his face, peeling off the bandages. A deep, heavily stitched scar split his pallid features in half.

Gasping as the images of the incident flashed before his eyelids, Aly clasped a large ashen hand over his mouth as his lungs seemed to constrict on themselves. Tears finally escaped, rolling down only to sting at the still healing wound.

Despite Ivankov's previous words, he remained in sympathetic silence. Aly would not be able to change back, no matter what. The young Ga'tour was a full blown man now, from the hormones to the body structure. To become a woman again would kill him. He would either have to accept the change, or die.

"Aly please…we can work through this," Ali pleaded, edging towards his son in worry. "This does not have to change anything, you are still my family. You are my precious son. No one else has to know. You can take your brother's name and- "

Both of the older men froze as Aly broke out in a humorless laugh, the empty sound dragging out painfully slow.

"Just perfect. I became the very same beast that ruined me. _Man_. Your quick thinking is certainly something. The irony is just killing me." Aly turned to face her father, shining trails of moisture ran from the golden iris's, mingling with the effects of his wound. By now his voice came out almost as a growl, a subtle roar edging his words. "How _dare_ you. Did you think this was the perfect opportunity to put your useless daughter to use? It really is quite the solution! With your only son dead, your heir, why the hell _not_?! You get to replace Ahlee and keep the family lineage secure with a new male heir!"

"Aly! N- No, that is not what I meant. I just wanted you to be happy. I just wanted you to live… you will always be my d-"

"_Shut your goddamned mouth and bite your tongue! _Don't you dare disgrace Ahlee's name or drag our family's honor through the dirt any further!I am not Aly! I am not your daughter. I am most certainly not Ahlee, and I will _never_ be your son!

The pure amount of venom and hatred in Aly's voice tore at Ali Ga'tours heart. Tears escaped without his knowledge; he was too stunned to feel any worldly pain. When his last surviving child started to leave, all he could do was cry out the desperate words straight from his breaking heart. "Aly," he sobbed, "please don't leave. You are all I have left. You are my everything!"

Aly paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder at his father. All he had left for his father was a cold look, filled with the pain of betrayal, and containing unspeakable rage. "I am not Aly. You might as well accept the fact that both of your children died that night."

Both of the men watched as the person, who used to be Aly Ga'tour, left the room, and the estate, for what would be the last time.

* * *

A little less than a month had passed after Aly Ga'tour had left the family estate and his father. He had finally gone out on his own to fulfill his dream of being a pirate, but of course now with a slightly different plan. Pirate _King_ was not so different. If anything, being a man would make the goal much easier to accomplish. People would take him seriously, and he would not be seen as a weak helpless girl that could be taken advantage of. He was now a man, who was seen as both physically and intellectually more capable. Aly had adapted quickly in this new world of man, taking advantage of the small things that came with being a male. However, a little more than three weeks into his new life of adventure and pirating, Aly was hit with an unexpected problem.

* * *

Revolutionists had crowded the decks to see the pirate ship that had dared to draw so close to their armada. Apparently this new comer was only here to speak to one of their prominent members in private. It had been allowed for whatever reason. Maybe it was because the pirate captain was not looking for a fight, but wanted to discuss something. There was a rumor floating around that it was one of the Ga'tour family, but that was quickly dismissed since all of that family had been killed about a month ago. The head of the Ga'tour family had died of a broken heart after losing his two children.

All they knew was that the man who had showed up had directly asked for Ivankov, and the Okama King had agreed.

* * *

Ivankov stood in one of the ship cabins, the curtains drawn, doors locked, all of the ship's crew transferred to another vessel, and the guards dismissed for absolute privacy. Even Monkey D. Dragon had been asked to remain outside. This visit was solely for Ivan. He looked up as a tall man walked in, shutting the door behind him.

As the other man emerged from the shadows, the golden glow on the lamps illuminated his form. His black hair, which shone with highlights of dark purple swirls of oil, was slicked back from his forehead, revealing a sheen of sweat glimmering from his ashen skin. Ivan's eyes were immediately drawn to the pallid face. Two dark eyebrows drawn in a downward angle rested above a pair of cold, tired, golden eyes. A large scar spanned across his nose from ear to ear.

"Alligator-boy, you are not looking so good," Ivan commented, noticing the pained expression on the young man's face and the barely concealed limp in his deliberate gait.

"It's Crocodile now," the man remarked dryly, his voice with a notable amount of strain in it as he took a seat across from the okama. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, weaving his hands together. Despite him being the one to call this meeting, he was looking rather distant.

"Fair enough. I must say it suits you." The other man didn't say anything, and remained in a lethargic state. This wasn't the proud Ga'tour family he knew. Ivankov waited several minutes before asking,"Mmmmfufufu, so, Croco-boy, why did you come to see me? If it is about the change, then you know I can't."

The golden eyed man shook his head and pressed his forehead against his hands that were still clasped together. A shuddering sigh escaped his pale lips. "Something is wrong with me," Crocodile whispered. "I do not know if it is because of the change, or that night…"

'So, that's what this is about. I knew it would never be so simple.' It was a rare sight to see such a proud man looking so broken. Ivan leaned forward in his own seat, resting his elbows on top of the desk that sat between them. "Well, tell me what's wrong, or I won't know if I can help you or not."

This time Crocodile moved his hands till they covered his eyes. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. Every inch of his pride had to be laid down for this. That and the feeling of exposing a terrible weakness to this man were causing countless mental arguments to wage war inside of his head, each screaming at him all the dangers and possibilities of betrayal. However, he just couldn't see another option. There was no one else he could turn to.

"I started bleeding."

Ivankov remained in contemplative silence for several long moments, digesting the three simple words. With a gentle tone, he cautiously voiced, "Are you saying you are having your period?" Ivankov waited until the man gave a slight jerk of his head, nodding a confirmation.

"Why is this happening? I don't have… _that_ organ anymore."

Uncomfortable seconds drew by as a heavy silence filled the room. Crocodile bit on the inside of his lip until he tasted blood. Only the sound of sails snapping in the wind, and the Revolutionists going about their business on their other ships, could be heard. Finally Ivankov spoke. "I believe the past trauma, both to your mind and body, have managed to translate over during when your body's natural menstrual cycle would have occurred. With the right hormones and the state of mind, your body can do what many think is impossible. In other words, thanks to the hormones and chemicals produced by your body during this time, this condition has manifested in the closest organ in relation to the original trauma, despite your gender."

Crocodile looked up, pressing the sides of his intertwined hands against his mouth, as he looked at the okama with something akin to horror written on his features. Slowly breathing through his nose, he managed to ask, "Are you saying this will happen every month?"

"I'm sorry Croco-boy, but I can't fix this. If I interfere with your hormones any more, you could die." The Okama King watched the pale man's features carefully. There of course was pain, but also Ivan could see the struggle of accepting his fate gradually shift into one of cold calculation. This man didn't stop to feel sorry for himself. If Crocodile would be feared for anything, it would be his cunning and adaptability.

Standing up from his chair, Crocodile barely held back a wince as the feeling of wetness sliding out of him was set free. As he extended a hand towards the other man, his deep voice rumbled, "Thank you for your time."

For a moment Ivan was surprised by Crocodiles swift acceptance and the action. There was not a single hint of anger in the scarred man's face. The Okama King quickly rose from his own chair and took the proffered hand in a strong grip. "How businessman like of you," Ivan said playfully.

Frowning, Crocodile stiffly replied, "Then let's treat this meeting in business terms. Nothing said here today, or of our past, leaves this room. Do we have an agreement?" He tightened his hand on the okamas, bringing their hand shake to a stop but not letting go. However, the afro-haired man was not intimidated.

"Mmmfufufuu~! As long as you don't get in my, or any of my allies' way, I will keep your secret in the greatest confidence. But," Ivan's voice turned dark, dripping with a threat, with an expression to match, "be warned. If you should ever interfere with our goals, or threaten my allies, then I can terminate this agreement at any time."

A grin split across Crocodiles pallid features, mimicking the scar across his nose so well that it was eerie. The low drawn out laughter that rumbled out of his chest left the okama with the briefest feeling of doubt. Little did he know that it was the psychological trap so cleverly woven by the other man; the type of game played by the cunning business man, the adept thief, a master chess player, the commander who used his wit to win the war he should have lost, or the drug dealer who was always a step ahead.

The two men parted, keeping a secret that was supposed to be just between them. Ivankov would keep his word, though he admittedly may have been threatened or tempted to speak of it on numerous occasions. Even when Monkey D. Dragon himself has asked, he gave away nothing. It was not Ivan's place to say anything. Something as dangerous and fragile as a man's past was better left for the man himself to reveal, if he chose to. The Okama King would not breathe a word of the events that led to the making of the man known as Crocodile.

**To be continued…**


End file.
